Extract the eternal from the ephemeral. - Charles Baudelaire

La femme ne sait pas séparer l'âme du corps.

— Who dares, in front of Love, to mention Hell?
Curbed forever be that useless dreamer
Who first imagined, in his brutish mind,
Of sheer futility the fatuous schemer,
Honour with Love could ever be combined.
He who in mystic union would enmesh
Shadow with warmth, and daytime with the night,
Will never warm his paralytic flesh
At the red sun of amorous delight.
Go, if you wish, and seek some boorish lover:
Offer your virgin heart to his crude hold,
Full of remorse and horror you'll recover,
And bring me your scarred breast to be consoled...
Down here, a soul can only serve one master.

(Damned Women)

Passion I hate, and spirit does me wrong. Let us love gently.